The Warlord bursts out laughing.
"Sorry, who are you? The Justicar? That's not even a real title! So you became brain-dead and devoted years of your life to the three most basic forces in the Alliance Military. And what, now you actually think you have some sort of battlefield authority? Did you even make Knight-lieutenant? How about Private? No? Oh."
Roifa finally manages to compose himself, before reaching for a cigar and steel lighter.
"Look. I get it, okay? I'm the big bad Warlord and like alot of intellectually-gifted people, you want to take your shot. There is however a waiting list, so be a doll and get in line. Maybe I might humour you one day."
The cigar is lit, the end sizzling as it burns.
(Skip me!)
The human barging in and starting to spew hate throws Darkian into another bout of laughter.
"Oh ma'am... you're all too efficient at destroying evil! - he manages to utter in a constrained voice before bursting into laugh again. - I'm sure to ex... *kheh-heh* explode!"
(Late silly OOC joke: "Are you a goblin? Because you're sure as hell blowing me up!")
"Oh ma'am... you're all too efficient at destroying evil! - he manages to utter in a constrained voice before bursting into laugh again. - I'm sure to ex... *kheh-heh* explode!"
(Late silly OOC joke: "Are you a goblin? Because you're sure as hell blowing me up!")
Laurenn approaches Darkian, letting out a brief laughter with a smile of amusement present on her face.
"Too efficient... a good one. Humans are fun at times, aren't they? Throwing around their silly titles as if it was any significant and gave them any right to feel better than others and throw orders around. If I call myself a Princess people won't start bowing before me out of a sudden. Why'd it work any different with their fake military titles? Yeeeeah, over half a year in Stormwind and the human culture is something I still don't understand."
She chuckles some more, asking Darkian a question afterwards.
"Do you feel the same, sir? Or are you a bit more familiar with their culture and title worship than I?"
"Too efficient... a good one. Humans are fun at times, aren't they? Throwing around their silly titles as if it was any significant and gave them any right to feel better than others and throw orders around. If I call myself a Princess people won't start bowing before me out of a sudden. Why'd it work any different with their fake military titles? Yeeeeah, over half a year in Stormwind and the human culture is something I still don't understand."
She chuckles some more, asking Darkian a question afterwards.
"Do you feel the same, sir? Or are you a bit more familiar with their culture and title worship than I?"
"Taking into account their unfortunately short lifespan, some of them may be compared to children that run around yelling they want to be a "Grand Magistrix" or whatever, - Darkian smirks at the lady, showing considerable fangs. - But if we take this example further, you look like one without effort, - his tone is nonchalant but not flirtatious. - Most of my knowledge of humanity comes from literature, but assuming that all the good novels reflect reality, a typical human uses titles, riches and birthright to compensate for their lack of wisdom and confidence."
"Sticking to hierarchy, - he all but spits the word out in disgust, - is a sign of weakness and cowardice."
"Sticking to hierarchy, - he all but spits the word out in disgust, - is a sign of weakness and cowardice."
Tyram Deolaras is riding through upon his charger, doubtlessly off on one of his usual Lightly endeavours, when he hears tell words upon humanity; He listens for a moment, before letting out a boisterous laugh.
"My behorned friend, you shall find that the typical human, does not in fact have titles, riches, or birthright. Our lives may be short, but we each build upon what our fathers built; over and over. The aspiration towards greatness is a driving force for many... but you will find many are happy to be humble.
You must remember; those novels you read have a human farm boy ready to rise up to face evil, for every arrogant lord in their pages."
Tyram raises a finger.
"I am aware of the irony in speaking such things, in gilded robes."
"My behorned friend, you shall find that the typical human, does not in fact have titles, riches, or birthright. Our lives may be short, but we each build upon what our fathers built; over and over. The aspiration towards greatness is a driving force for many... but you will find many are happy to be humble.
You must remember; those novels you read have a human farm boy ready to rise up to face evil, for every arrogant lord in their pages."
Tyram raises a finger.
"I am aware of the irony in speaking such things, in gilded robes."
"What a fine day to be chastised by Paladins, - he shrugs but looks somewhat humbled. - And while I haven't experienced the concept of fathers in any positive sense, a story about farm boys just might be my next read..."
(skip if you want, I feel like I'm hogging too much thread space)
(skip if you want, I feel like I'm hogging too much thread space)
"How interesting that I would find everyone here currently talking about books. It just so happens that I am currently working on a new project and some input would be appreciated."
The void elf hands the paladin and demon hunter a series of pages titled The Shadow over Stormsong.
The void elf hands the paladin and demon hunter a series of pages titled The Shadow over Stormsong.
*grabs the book, pawing over it as she bites on an apple. She nods as apple pieces and juices fall on the pages*
I see... hmm. Interesting. Is that even a word? Really?
*closes the book before handing it back*
It's... well... you tried. Needs more pictures, finger painting and general imagery. You know, like a real story.
*bites into the apple again before taking out another one, offering it*
I see... hmm. Interesting. Is that even a word? Really?
*closes the book before handing it back*
It's... well... you tried. Needs more pictures, finger painting and general imagery. You know, like a real story.
*bites into the apple again before taking out another one, offering it*
With her mouth slightly agape and eyes like saucers the enchantress stare in shock at the tauren's actions and her words, while she tugs her scrolls closer and more protective against her chest.
Forcibly takes the book out of the taurens hands.
"I see what the tauren means. needs more red and a bit of spikes... anywhere really. I think it would give it that danger you elves truly lack..."
Looks to Xanetia.
"As for you I would recommend a bit of color on those scrolls... I think it needs more red, yes a lot more red, more specifically blood red. you can never go wrong with blood red."
"I see what the tauren means. needs more red and a bit of spikes... anywhere really. I think it would give it that danger you elves truly lack..."
Looks to Xanetia.
"As for you I would recommend a bit of color on those scrolls... I think it needs more red, yes a lot more red, more specifically blood red. you can never go wrong with blood red."
Needs only one look at the savage green-skinned beast for the decision to be made - as long as those walk our lands, the world will never be safe.
Quickly, she takes her stance, and with bow and arrow in hand, carefully calculates how to strike with single, killing blow.
If there is one, there is bound to be more.
Alerting them could prove a lethal mistake.
Arrow leaves her hand with silent swiz.
Quickly, she takes her stance, and with bow and arrow in hand, carefully calculates how to strike with single, killing blow.
If there is one, there is bound to be more.
Alerting them could prove a lethal mistake.
Arrow leaves her hand with silent swiz.
BANG
The Trajectory of the Heartseeking Arrow aimed at Erahe's life, is altered against a single shot from the Warlord's heavy-flintlocke, as if striking the arrow head between the eyes. The ricochet of munitions reverberates, eventually leaving but a dull echo.
He then lifts the rumble of his voice in the direction of wherever that arrow came.
"Yeah.. Hi? ...like, Could you not? There's people trying to read books here. Look if you can't read, I'm sure someone will read one to you if you ask nicely!"
Roifa takes a moment to play with the steel snap of his lighter and light up another cigar casually, all the whilst studying his surroundings for whatever may come next.
The Trajectory of the Heartseeking Arrow aimed at Erahe's life, is altered against a single shot from the Warlord's heavy-flintlocke, as if striking the arrow head between the eyes. The ricochet of munitions reverberates, eventually leaving but a dull echo.
He then lifts the rumble of his voice in the direction of wherever that arrow came.
"Yeah.. Hi? ...like, Could you not? There's people trying to read books here. Look if you can't read, I'm sure someone will read one to you if you ask nicely!"
Roifa takes a moment to play with the steel snap of his lighter and light up another cigar casually, all the whilst studying his surroundings for whatever may come next.
Darkian was lost in doubt whether to take the all-too-serious responsibility of proof-reading someone's drafts that could've been half-baked or, Light forbid, possibly even boring... But the interference of the Tauren and the Orc solved the dilemma, although in a forehead-slapping, gut-freezing manner. In a gesture of the ultimate embarrassment Darkian hid his face in his sizeable palm, shaking the head slightly and lowering his blindfold all the way down so that he wouldn't have to witness any more of this heathenry.
But just as the universe's sense of irony would have it, next moment came a loud BANG, making him jump up on his feet and flick out a glaive. For all his disdain for these enormous things, they could very well double as a shield. His other hand adjusting the blindfold yet again, he decided it was high time to ask an enchanter, or probably an engineer, if they could make anything that was transparent from his viewpoint but solid on the outside.
"Of all the people I would expect to start a glorified bar fight... - he drawled, seeing the culprit of all this mess, as he took out the second glaive.
(I assumed it was a more-or-less covered area... so the huntress would be easier to point out)
But just as the universe's sense of irony would have it, next moment came a loud BANG, making him jump up on his feet and flick out a glaive. For all his disdain for these enormous things, they could very well double as a shield. His other hand adjusting the blindfold yet again, he decided it was high time to ask an enchanter, or probably an engineer, if they could make anything that was transparent from his viewpoint but solid on the outside.
"Of all the people I would expect to start a glorified bar fight... - he drawled, seeing the culprit of all this mess, as he took out the second glaive.
(I assumed it was a more-or-less covered area... so the huntress would be easier to point out)
Looks at him and the scene in the bar silently while from time to time running his hand over his runeglaive, looking slightly amused.
Roifa looks at Uruk, then looks at the Runeglaive. He looks back at Uruk.. and then back at the Runeglaive.
‘’.....Could you get a room? Honestly?’’
‘’.....Could you get a room? Honestly?’’
"Oh, hey! Catch!"
*Throws a water balloon at Roifa*
...
*Filled with Holy Water*
*Throws a water balloon at Roifa*
...
*Filled with Holy Water*
Trap within a fel crystal and run her clawed gauntlets over the surface going, ‘’Where’ssss Zirahael? Where’s Zirahael?!’’ for ten-thoooooousand seconds.
Make cakes for the Night Elf and tell him how Innkeeper Gryskha thinks Martok is sexiest mage alive ever since he got his spine fixed and new outfit from trolls
Clap him on the shoulder and say he's glad things are working out for him.
*prepares to throw a dagger at the demon hunter*
'ey, nah pick on da mental mon ja- oh, oh...
*lowers her weapon as she sees it's a congratulatory gesture*
Nevahmin'.
'ey, nah pick on da mental mon ja- oh, oh...
*lowers her weapon as she sees it's a congratulatory gesture*
Nevahmin'.